


Finding Home

by LesbianMonsterLover



Category: Monster Girls | Monster Boys, Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fantasy setting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healer, Lesbian Sex, Love, Medieval Medicine, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianMonsterLover/pseuds/LesbianMonsterLover
Summary: Two orcs, a brother and sister, protect you on the road and take you under their wing.  Life moves on, for the three of you.  Can love grow here?
Relationships: Human/Orc, Orc/Reader, female orc/female reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 117





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

> This? This is self indulgent trash. I know I’ve been MIA for a bit, mental health is a helluva thing. Remember kids, take care of yourself. But, I’m back, I have a few stories in the works, hopefully at least one maybe two a week for the next little bit. If you’re on my discord you’ve likely already seen that I’m back and you’re here via a link. You guys have been messaging a little here and there lately, and even if I haven’t participated I want you to know it’s why I came back at all.

You’d never been considered much by the standards of your village. Or, maybe, you were too much. Too headstrong, too opinionated, too adventurous, too mannish. Your mother and father never stopped you though, your mother seeing much of herself in you when she was young. But as you grew, you never settled. As a child, declaring that you’d become a wandering healer was just like declaring that you’d become a princess: the dream of one too young to know how the world worked, sweet but naive. Truly, they never expected you’d go through with it, pity they couldn’t live to talk you out of it.

  
You’d been on the road a few years at this point. After their passing, at the hands of a harsh winter with too many sick and too few who could competently heal, you picked up and left. You’d been begging to apprentice with the old woman, Aldra, who took care of your village’s elderly and infirm, but she steadfastly refused. And then winter, and death, came to the village, and Aldra was taken quickly, with no one who could replace her as she’d taken none on.  
Your first year was spent grieving, you wandered, and foraged. You’d slept outside more often than not, although getting used to that was not as difficult as you’d expected. The countryside was temperate, a long growing season with little snow in the winter but much rain in the spring. You couldn’t work your way along as men might, plying strength of arm for coin or roof, but by the second year you learned what you could do, and what you wouldn’t. Scrubbing dishes was not beneath you, and serving sometimes earned an extra copper or two from some poor soul wishing for your company. You weren’t much good with animals, although at milking you were a quick study, and you could feed chickens with the best of them.

  
It was in your second year of wandering that you met Gunag and Vothag. You avoided larger settlements as much as possible, preferring to stick to backcountry roads, small villages and hamlets. In your head as you tended to be at that point, you managed to miss the sounds of battle. Focused, as you were, on the book you’d managed to scrounge enough coppers for depicting medicinal plant life in this part of the world. You were comparing a burst of purple flowers to a drawing of something called Comfrey, that’s meant to help with bruising along with a long list of other ailments. “This looks right…” You’re muttering to yourself, when you’re suddenly taken to the ground and covered with the heavy, sweaty weight of a man.

  
You move to protest, but before you can he’s blocking a sword swing with a set of bracers, and you see an arrow where your head would have been embedded in the trunk of a tree. The sound of blade piercing flesh is loud, but you can’t see where it comes from. “That’s three for me, Gunag, and one left to beat your score!” You hear the body above you grumble, but you’re pinned with a stern brown gaze.

  
“You alright? Gotta look where you’re goin’. Not safe for a lady to be on the road by ‘erself, I don like it one bit.” You sputter out a denial, but you’re stopped by the sound of blade piercing flesh again. The wince from the face above you, and the peek of shiny metal piercing through their forearm followed by a flood of blackish blood, tells you where this one came from. Before anyone else can react, you watch the head of the bandit cleaved from its body while a snarling face reveals itself from behind the bloodied stump.

  
“Fucking coward! Attacking while his back is turned! I’d ask how could you, but you wouldn’t deign me with a response.” The face spits on the falling body before rushing over, pulling the blade from the forearm of your savior and putting pressure on the wound. “You!” The face - that you can now see is attached to a rather attractive Orc woman, all tusks and flinty eyes - gives you a frantic and wide eyed look, gazing from the book on the ground to your somewhat slack, shocked countenance. “What have you got, can you help me?”

  
“I don’t-I mean-” you stumble over words and you grow pale at the fierce glare you’re given. “I just - I mean I don’t know! This is...this is my first day with this book!” You scramble over to it frantically, trying to recall anything that you could remember. From this book, from any others you managed to leaf through, from your time on the road. “I thought - I just wanted to be able to help - but I’m as useless as ever!” The look you’re given is hard and appraising, before it moves to resigned.

  
“Fine, just, help me then. You’re not squeamish I hope, strong stomach and all that. Now, hold on here, and press down.” Your hands are guided over the wound, and although they slip slightly on the blood you bite down a flinch and keep pushing. The face of the wounded orc is pale and slightly sweaty, but you get what you’re sure is supposed to be an encouraging smile.

  
“Doin’ fine there, lass, press harder, won’t hurt me none, at least not any more.” He barks out a rough low laugh, and you can’t help but smile back, putting more of your weight down against the wound. The fierce one comes back, the lady, and gives you a shrewd look of appraisal. Finding you to be doing fine she grunts a little as she kneels down hard on the ground by her companion.

  
“Alright, gotta rinse it first. Make sure there ain’t no bits in it.” The cold water from a skin makes the injured orc hiss, but he doesn’t move. The lady orc gives it a quick look over before nodding. “Honey next, keeps things out, but helps keep that blood inside where it belongs.” She quickly slathers honey over both sides of the through and through wound as she hands you clean bandages. “You wrap him up good now, I gotta take care of these rogues.” She nods at you with a trusting smile and you feel your cheeks heat before you obey her quickly.

  
“Ah, she likes you.” You’re startled out of your own thoughts again by the orc whose arm you’re wrapping. “Vothag, she likes you.” He gives you a grin, tusks flashing in the sun. “Course she does, you’re a comely lass, if a little small, with a strong stomach and apparently totally incapable of caring for yourself out on the road.” You give a sputtering protest, but it’s not like he’s wrong. You suppose you’ve been relatively lucky the last few months, trailing between some smaller villages in a relatively idyllic part of the world. But you’ve begun wandering further south now, and the further you get from your old home the more wild the world has seemed to become. You wonder, shamefully, if you should have just stayed. Settled. Done what was wanted of you, been what was wanted of you. “Aw come on now lass, don’t look so contemplative. Gives you this weird little pucker between your brows.”  
Before you can even muster the indignation for a response you’re interrupted again by who you now know is Vothag. “Come on then brother, don’t be mean to our new human companion.” Before you can even think to protest she fixes you with another inscrutable and serious stare. “Way I see it, you owe my good brother Gunag a life debt small one, and you’re in no position to be left out here in the wildlands on your own.” She crosses her arms, almost expecting you to deny it, but you just give a little huff and nod.

  
“You’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing. But if you’re willing to take me on I’d do my best.” Gunag gives a cheer, you missed him sitting up and settling beside you as Vothag stands over the both of you. His injured arm wraps around your shoulders, tugging you in to ruffle at your head with his strong hand.  
“Come on then lass! We were headed for an inn, but it looks like another night under the stars is in order! Tell me you can at least start a fire.” You give Gunag a withering stare, deadpan, and Vothag just laughs at both of you.

\----

That feels like ages ago by now. Although, four years of traveling the wild is ages to many. Vothag and Gunag took you in quite happily, spending time teaching you to wield a sword (not your favorite, although the way that Vothag laughed when you finally managed to disarm her brother is a memory etched into your psyche) and a bow (all much preferred for you to stay out of close combat range), helping you in your identification of plants, teaching you to stitch wounds, and ultimately making you one of them.

  
It’s a calm and quiet spring night, Gunag and Vothag are talking quietly in orcish. You’ve learned a bit of it by now, but you still try to give them their privacy and not listen in. You’re fletching some new arrows, sticking the feathers down with a bit of sap and binding them with thread. You’ve gotten quite good at it, although the memory of Vothag’s arms around you, caging you in against her chest as she guided you through the motions as you were learning still makes you blush.  
Gunag had been so sure that first year that you and Vothag would make a pair of it, and to be honest you still found that prospect enticing even as sure as you were that nothing would come to pass. You treasured every close moment, every laugh, every open smile, the little dimple in her left cheek that only showed when you managed to make her laugh as wide and open as the plains you crossed your third year together. You were one of them, but you were not hers, as much as you might have longed for it.

  
“Alright then my little Verbena-” (a nickname you’d acquired when their scent stuck to you for days after a little tumble down a small hill into a patch of the small purple flowers) “-what’s got you lookin’ like that, eh?” Gunag sits down hard beside you, and follows your gaze over to where it had come to rest on his sister. How did you miss the ending of their conversation? You’d been so good lately about controlling your gaze, ensuring that your wandering eye didn’t tarry too long on that strong, orcish woman you’d come to love. He gives a noncommittal hum in your direction along with a slight smirk. Your cheeks heat, but you don’t deign him with a response, instead focusing back on the task at hand of fletching your new arrows. “Don’t give up hope lass, just give her time.”  
You huff. Time? Time?! You’ve given her nothing but time. Time, and patience, things you never had in abundance anyway, but still you waited. Pined. Hoped. You find you’ve badly mangled two of the feathers on the shaft and tug them off halfheartedly with a sigh. Gunag gives you a pat on the shoulder before moving to take over dinner at the fire. The feathers are not salvageable, so you cut another feather in half, using the spare half from the last set for a third. You’re still stuck in your thoughts, that much never really stopped, but you break out of them at a shift and crack of a stick behind you.

  
You whirl around, hoping that all it is is some game animal getting too curious and close. You don’t have that kind of luck though. You’re greeted by what seems like it should be the scout of some human bandits or raiders. Clumsy, stupid, loud, but still dressed to blend in. He’s tried to tuck himself behind a tree that’s a bit small for his frame, and when he sees you’ve noticed him he tucks a finger to his lips as he points a crossbow at Gunag’s back. Before you can think, or say anything, he’s let off a shot and you’re diving. You don’t feel the arrow at first, but when you land you can hear yourself screaming.

  
The searing pain takes a moment to set in, and when you go to grab at your burning forearm you find an arrow pierced entirely through it, a river of crimson blood dripping down your arm to your elbow. The fight is relatively quick, the scout dispatched before he can load another bolt into his crossbow, and the rest scatter after the failed ambush, unwilling to take on two orcs showing signs of greater battle prowess than they were ready for.

  
Vothag finds you passed out from shock, gripping at your forearm with a steadily growing pool of blood around you. Her curse is rough, and her normally sparkling eyes are as hard and worried as that first day you met her. It’s your turn though, under this protective gaze. She’s thankful you’re unconscious as she removes the arrow from your arm and binds it with some honey and arrowroot powder. You still squirm, your face pinching as you try to pull away, and that’s even better. You’ll be fine, she tells herself. She’s seen people come through from worse, you’ll be fine.

  
Still, this means you’ve finally repaid your blood debt. She wasn’t serious, that first night, really just trying to think of a reason to get you to stick around with her and her idiot brother. She’d been expecting you to balk at the suggestion, fight back like the spitfire you really are. But that day showed your fire was only one side of you, a very attractive one to be sure, but still only a facet. You looked so unsure, so forlorn, so lost when you declared yourself unfit for the wild, and put yourself in their care. So, if you accepted the blood debt, she couldn’t well pursue you while it remained unpaid. Otherwise her clan could accuse her of pressuring you, of declaring the blood debt in order to persuade a human to her side and her bed. No, better to train you up, take care of you, make sure you could handle yourself, before finding someone to clear the debt and leave her free and clear to have you as she would please.

  
This though, this is the reality of a blood debt paid in full. You took that bolt meant for Gunag, your little human arm rent through, your first real battle scar. Hopefully your last, if she had anything to say about it. Vothag knows you well enough to know that you would never settle for life in even a stronghold, as much different as they were from the human villages they’d passed through. You had a wandering spirit too big to stifle. But still, she’d rather take your wandering back somewhere safe, where the roads are mostly patrolled, and she and her brother can sell their strength of arm instead of their strength of arms.

\----

It takes you several hours to wake, the shock and blood loss don’t help. You come to consciousness slowly, the usual merry crackling of the fire and the gentle hum of insects in the night a white noise that brings a sense of comfort. “Ah, looks like you’re awake my little Verbena. And you took a bolt for me girl, things like that aren’t done lightly.” Gunag ruffles an affectionate hand gently through your hair.  
You give him a slightly confused look, tipping your head to the side. “You took a blade for me when we met, and we didn’t even know each other.” His smile is small and a little wry.

  
“Ah, you walked into that fight, I didn’t take that blade for you as much as it was coming for me already. This though, lass, you took it for me.” A large warm hand clasps around your forearm, his smile is almost achingly tender and fraternal. He rumbles out a sentence in orcish, something in a dialect you haven’t heard and with words and cadence you can barely make out. “Your debt to me is paid, lass, and then some. But you’re still ours, eh?” The look turns hopeful. “Not gonna...gonna run off and join some human settlement we’ll only ever pass through.”

  
You laugh, a little hoarse and quiet but still yours. “You couldn’t make me even if you wanted to.”

  
“Glad to hear that, then.” Vothag’s voice interrupts the two of you, soft and almost unsure. She gives Gunag an indecipherable look, but he seems to get the gist and with a wistful, still hopeful, smile he takes his leave while Vothag settles into the vacant spot left beside you. “You gave me fright, honey.” Your face heats immediately at the name, and the tender way she’s looking at you. She’s only ever called you by your name, or sometimes, jokingly, as “humie” when you were doing something she found particularly entertainingly un-Orcish. “Finding you on the ground like that, covered in blood. Never again.” Her vow is like her iron will, unflinching and steady. She gives a sigh after it, looking down at you in a way you’d almost call love-struck. “Oh my precious little human…” her calloused fingers trail over your soft cheeks, feeling the growing heat there as she strokes your skin reverently. “I’ve been searching for some time, for an appropriate way to get you out of the debt I so carelessly put upon you our first meeting.” Her hand cups your cheek then, and she leans down to cage you in with her long dark locks, blanketing you from the outside world so it’s only the two of you. “Now that you’re free though, my heart, my soul, my self, I can offer them to you. Freely. Without coercion. Would you still have me? Even without ties that bind us together?”

  
You laugh first, and her face falls, but you reach up your good hand to cup her own cheek. “So long. I have waited, for so long, for you to ask me that.” Vothag’s smile returns at that, so wide as to make that dimple you love so much appear, even without her laughter. That smile, it belongs only to you. And you’re going to hoard it, forever. “Of course, you silly thing. Vothag, I have been yours for so long, I have only been waiting for you to notice. Of course I’ll have you, you’re quite stuck with me I’m afraid.” Her kiss is tender and soft, taking care with her tusks as she slants her lips over yours. You want her to take you, there and then by the fire out under the blanket of stars, but the crashing sound of her brother’s footsteps pulls you from that dream.

  
“Finally! Vothag finally got the stones to ask eh? Or are you taking advantage of our poor, injured girl sister mine?” The glare he gives her is as fake as the grin on his face is real. The shy little smile and giggle you offer in answer just makes him abandon the glare altogether in favor of the jovial, sparkling eyes of the family line. Not so nice as Vothag’s, you think to yourself, but still a welcome sight. “Well then, looks like I’ll soon have two sisters eh?” Vothag sputters a little at this, but neither of you deny it, and you spend the first of many nights that night wrapped up in the strong arms of your wandering warrior.

  
The journey to their family stronghold isn’t a long one, only three months, and you find yourself more than a little surprised to be welcomed into the home of the chief and greeted as family. With the years you’d spent on the road together, you’d have thought they may have mentioned their station or family ties. But it also doesn’t escape you that not once in the many years they’ve been traveling have they come home. Still, Vothag wants to marry you in the tradition of her people, and doing so means clan ties, and clan ties mean the stronghold. It turns out their father is the chief’s brother, or was. They struck out wandering much like you after the death of their parents, that much at least you knew, but you didn’t know how high ranking the siblings were.

  
The ceremony was traditional, and you spent the afternoon and evening getting sewn into your crushed red velvet dress, trimmed with gold embroidery and covered in small gems from waist to shoulder. Vothag comes in new ceremonial armor, polished to a high sheen. Her dark hair is braided back from her face, run through with beads and feathers. The coils of unbraided curls offset the braids, making her look fierce and untamed. The wicked blade at Vothag’s waist makes you smile, your wedding gift to her. Your own gift was a set of fine bracers, as beautiful as they were sturdy, and you noticed they were conspicuously high enough to cover the scar of where you had been run through with a bolt.

  
You pledge yourselves to one another under the height of the moon, Vothag’s uncle performing the ceremony with a wide smile on his tusked face. Humans weren’t a common choice, but the bonds forged on the road were strong and rarely broken if they could last through as much as the three of you had. The feast lasts through the rest of the night and well into the next day, and when you and Vothag stumble into your marriage bed that next afternoon, stripped down naked except for smallclothes, naught but sleeping is done for some time.

  
When you wake, it’s dark out, but the moonlight streaming in through the window of the cabin combined with the light of the banked fire is enough for your eyes. You shiver lightly at the feather light stroke of a calloused finger down your naked spine. You gasp and arch as the hand attached to that finger grips at the round globe of your ass, tugging to press your core against her hip where your leg is thrown over her body. “Vothag!”

  
“Oh wife, how I have longed to hear my name from your throat like that, breathless and needy, but you can do it better. I’ll make it better.” You’re swiftly spun and pinned beneath her, your wrists in a firm grip above your head as she runs her lips and tusks along your neck and shoulder, chest and throat. The strokes are slow and deliberate, occasionally interspersed with the slick heat of her tongue or the sharp bite of her teeth. Another one of these nips pulls another breathy “Vothag!” from your lips.

  
Her smile is predatory as she gazes up at you from between your breasts, and she keeps her eyes on yours as she takes one of your nipples into her hot mouth. Your keening whine prompts an answering groan as she suckles and tongues at the firm bud. Your hands strain to grip at her hair, but she keeps you pinned as she slowly and sensually kisses between your breasts to suckle and nibble at your other nipple. She lavishes your breasts with attention for what feels like maybe hours, although you know it isn’t. Your nipples are raw and throbbing, standing hard at attention. You can feel how needy and wet you are between your thighs, and so can Vothag as you’ve spent the last minutes desperately rutting up against her thigh.

  
The way you whine her name when she pulls her face away from your chest makes her chuckle darkly. She doesn’t let go of your wrists, merely changing her grip and bringing your captured hands down to your stomach as she throws your thighs over her shoulders. You don’t have time to feel self conscious as she dives in, nudging your labia apart with her tusks as she licks a broad stripe up from the base of your weeping hole all the way over your throbbing clit. She gives your clit a gentle nip, making your hips jerk and you shriek out her name. She sucks it between her lips then, lashing her tongue over the exposed head of your clitoris until your inner thighs are positively vibrating around her head and she feels you shiver and release a gush of fluid as you orgasm. She still doesn’t let up, wringing a second from you quickly when she presses first one and then two of her thick, calloused fingers into the tight gripping hole of your womanhood. She releases your hands after your second orgasm, and lets you push her head feebly out of the way with shaking hands. She kneels between your legs then, two of her fingers still buried inside of you as they gently massage, not too much stimulation but enough to keep you on edge. You groan out her name again, hoarse from the screaming pleasure she’d already given you. “Just one more love, you can give me one more yeah? My beautiful little wife.”

  
She straddles your hips then, pulling her fingers from you with a lewd squelch, and aligns her mound over your own. She uses two fingers to spread her labia, and you can make out a thick, protruding clitoris, much bigger than your own. She presses it between your own lips, groaning at the contact even as you let out a breathless moan at the heat and feel of her. She grips your legs, positioning you as she likes before she begins grinding and thrusting, using her clitoris to rub and stimulate your own. You grip at her strong forearms, blunt little nails digging into warm, firm skin. You’re lost in the feel of her, the rasp of her pubic hair, her muscular thighs and arms keeping you caged in.

  
Your orgasm sweeps over you quickly and unexpectedly. No buildup, just an intense rush of heat so strong you can feel your vision going black at the edges. “I’m close, honey, gonna mark you as mine.” Her growl is guttural, and with a strangled low roar she finds her own release, her own rush of almost boiling hot pleasure making itself known between you. She collapses over you, although she is careful not to lean all of her weight on you as she cages you in once again between strong arms. “I love you, my wife, my everything. You are my home, wherever we go, I’ll always have you with me.” Her kiss is tender, still slightly flavored with your own pleasure, and the smile she gives you when she pulls back is full of promise for the future. She turns over, pulling you with her, and she lulls you back to sleep in her arms, against her chest, promising you more pleasure when you wake.


End file.
